


Driven To Change

by ohgoodnesswhatdo



Category: Twittibal
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, Guilt, Multi, Restraint, Tears, forced ingestion of pills, pill-induced dreams and vomiting, twittibal - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:52:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgoodnesswhatdo/pseuds/ohgoodnesswhatdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((Bleh. Needed to transition.))</p><p>After killing a love and abusing his other loved ones, Bentley is taken to the BSHCI where he finally finds his emotions again. Namely, guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driven To Change

It took four men and three hits from a stun gun to restrain the cold, violent, and selfish monster that Bentley had become. 

Miriam's pale body laying in her own blood, matching the red dripping from his palms, and Dodger's bruised form, weary and curled in unconscious defense, were behind him. They were nothing but meat to him. Wasted meat that tried to change him.

He knew he had changed, on his own. He knew that they were hurt. He understood their intentions.  
He just didn't care.

There was nothing wrong with him.

Uniformed men and women strapped him down onto a gurney in an attempt to tend to the stab wound in his shoulder that Dodger dealt. He thrashed and yelled at them, stretching the restraints, and they were forced to sedate him.

Their faces blurred as his body relaxed. The pain stopped before he felt tired.

He mumbled for Hannibal to tell him what was happening, what was in the needles, was his arm going to stay on? 

Hannibal always told him what he was doing, why weren't these doctors telling him? 

The lights of the ambulance were dimming. Everything was dark. Oh, his eyes were closing. He wasn't controlling his eyelids.

He wanted to panic and stay awake, but his body failed him. Only his quick heartbeat showed distress, and then it slowed, too. Slower than it normally beats when he's at rest. 

 

He woke to white. White. White. Where is the black, the silver, the tan and brown and hints of red, the pitter-patter of rain, the violins and flutes and trumpets faded against the hum of the road, the warmth and touch and occasional voice of his entire world?

White straps around his arms and legs, something between his teeth keeping him from grinding them together (a habit he had recently formed), a dull ache in his shoulder. It was all faint and light, uncertain and white. 

 

He was led into another room. Darker. Gray. Better. Clearer.  
Someone here and there would ask him questions. They were angry. Livid.  
He assumed they would torture him for the information. About him..about Hannibal..about Dodger and Miriam. 

He wouldn't speak no matter what they tried and offered.

They put him into a darker room. Brick. Solid. A bed. Metal bars. A little bit of light. Just fine.

They would ask him questions later, when he would "settle down". So stupid. He was very calm. 

They didn't know who he was. They couldn't keep him forever.

 

-  
Too much darkness now.

Too much cold.

Antifreeze..turn on the brights.  
Is there water in the system? 

"Take me to get new bulbs. You have money. Make time to fix me. I could save your life one day." Bentley muttered, hugging his knees and staying directly under the single light of his cell.  
"Fix my lights..Can't do your work in the dark.."

"Sir? Will you answer some questions today?"

Bentley fiddled with his dark blue sleeves before standing and stiffly walking to the bars. A lady with straight blond hair and hazel eyes looked up at him, calm. Trusting.

"Ask." Bentley commanded.

"Don't be rude, please." 

He blinked. Familiar word. Rude.

"Alright, sir. I would like to know your name."

"..Ben."

"Alright, thank you, Ben." She had nothing to write on. Her hands were empty. "When is your birthday?"

"I don't remember."

"You might eventually. That's fine. Now, Ben, have you hurt someone?"

"Of course."

"Why did you hurt them?"

A sudden blaze of rage consumed him. He slammed his hands against the bars, yelling.   
"They tried to CHANGE me!! I let them walk all over me! You see this hand!?"  
He showed her his scarred hand, a few places dipped where muscle or tissue was missing.   
"I let my brother EAT MY FUCKING HAND! I /LET/ him!! That was the final straw! You know what I did!? I bent him over and fucked him DRY! I should have killed him. I should have ripped..his throat out.." he backed away from the bars, from the startled woman. He paced a bit.

"But he's got these eyes..they're bright blue and STAB YOU. So blue, so sharp, his teeth are sharp, too. Everything about him STABS ME. It CUTS and slices and stabs and stabs and stabs and stabs..." He held his head, feeling like his skull was expanding. The pain shot to his eyes, his jaw, and his neck. His chest, unlike his head, tightened, so tight and restricting, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to think.

"He's why I did it. Why I hurt them. They told me to be /nice/ to my brother. They tried to change me. You can't change me, I know what you're here to do and it won't fucking work. I want my father.." 

"Ben, how about I come in another time?"

"/Go away/!!" He shouted, too loud for his ears but enough to get his point across, and the woman left quickly. 

Bentley went back to his place under the light, begging under his breath to God to make his chest stop aching like it used to. He thought he was done with the chest aches.

"It's all rusted..of all the things to change, you tried to change me. Just fix me. Fix the lights. It's hard for us to see if you don't help me.."

-  
The lady came back the next day. With his food this time.  
"Good morning, Ben."

Bentley looked up from his bed at her. He last remembered being on the floor.  
"Morning?"

"It's hard to tell time in here, I know. I can't help you with that..I came early today so I thought I could bring you breakfast. We can talk while you eat."

"No. It smells terrible." He sat up. "It looks terrible. What even is that?"  
He gestured to a gray glob on the tray.  
"Eggs...hard to believe.. But it's protein. You need it."

He stood and took the tray through a slot in the bars. Their hands touched briefly. He felt nothing but her skin.

The tray had globs in sections, save for a slice of hardly-cooked bread and a small cup of grape juice. The globs were gray, one was a dull pink and yellow, and another was lumpy and brown.  
Hannibal would have taken the food and /flushed/ this mush. It deserved worse than the trash bin.

"I'll drink the juice and maybe eat the bread, but that's it."

"Alright..it's something on your stomach, at least, for your medicine later."

Medicine, huh? Maybe she just means Advil. Ben sat on the floor in front of the bars, comforted by the concrete. The woman sat as well. Hm.

"Ben, what's your favorite color?"

"Black." He paused. "I like blue..and red..black, blue, and red."

The woman nodded. "Any reason why you like those colors?"

"Not really. I think I look best in black. My father looks dashing in red and blue. In any color, really."

"Your father, hm? That's nice. You're fond of your father?"

"My partner looks nice in blues." He continued. "He wears pale blue and dark blue jeans and his eyes are blue.." He stopped. "Blue eyes..Fucking blue eyes.." 

He kept his own eyes on his food, chewing the bread slowly. 

The woman sat with him in silence until he finished.

"I'm off, then." She took his tray. "Bye, Ben. Thanks for talking with me today." She smiled a bit and left for the rest of the day. His chest ached again. She was actually nice to him, even though he yelled at her.

Bentley stayed curled up in bed all day except to use the toilet and to accept a pain reliever from another woman in white. It was a new pain reliever. It was half red and half orange. Then they gave him more unrecognizable food.

He just stared at the wall that evening, unthinking, undisturbed. The pain was gone. So was the anger.

After feeling a little more at ease, he slept and dreamed of Hannibal's blue plaid suit peeking out from under his tan coat.

Hannibal locked his doors, patted his warm hood, and smiled at him, even though the snow and wind whipped at his face. Hannibal didn't have to touch his hood, since it got hot after the commute to work, but Hannibal knew he liked it.

The cold didn't bother Bentley too much. Antifreeze was nice.

He tried watching his dear driver through the window to make sure he was inside of his building, safe and warm. He would only occasionally see his figure but the glow of the fireplace was enough to comfort him. His dream went through a whole normal day. The snow stopped. At dusk, Hannibal returned to him, patted his cold hood, unlocked the door, and sat in the driver's seat.   
"You must get lonely, sitting all day."  
"No, sir. I know you're close by. That's enough for me."  
"That's very nice of you to say, Bentley.."   
He clicked on the seatbelt and Bentley's motor hummed. It's the closest thing to a hug he can give. Hannibal is warm, and he turns on his favorite classical station. Hours of snow and rain and stillness are worth it for that moment when he settles in the cabin.  
"If you're not too tired, and since I have enough gasoline..May we take the longer way home?"  
"Sure, Bentley. We'll make a few stops, too."   
Hannibal's hands are on the wheel, and there's no fear.

 

Bentley woke to a man holding water and pills. He sat up in bed and walked over to look at what they expected him to take.  
A blue and yellow pill, a tiny red one, and a long white one.  
"What are these for?"

The man shrugged. "I just deliver them."

"I just took a pill.."

"That was last night. Please eat once you take these." He gestured to the food tray. Just globs of undesireable mush. Not even bread this time. He wondered if that was occasional or that lady brought it to him herself.

The man left and Bentley sighed. His cheeks felt wet. He wiped his eyes and chuckled bitterly. It would be nice to be a car again. Or at least be out.

Normally, someone would fuss quite a bit to get out, but he didn't feel like it..he wanted out, terribly, but he didn't /feel/ like acting out on it. He just wanted to lay down and do nothing. Feel nothing. 

He took the pills and went back to sleep, not wanting their food. He wanted meat and fruit and a glass of wine.

He dreamed of voices crying, screaming, choking, and begging. No visuals and no escape. A familiar burning in his gut wouldn't go away. He woke again to vomit the pills into the toilet.  
The burn stayed.  
He recognized it as guilt.  
He cried over the toilet, and felt nothing but guilt.

Why did he hurt them? 

They forced his hand. That's why. He didn't want to hurt them, they just forced him to.

It wasn't his fault.

-

A day passed without the blonde woman. A man with short brown hair and round glasses visited him.  
"Ben? Can we talk today?"

Bentley was in his bed. His small, stiff bed. Too short for his long legs. He glanced at the man.  
"Where is she?"

"Who?" The man clicked a pen. He had something to write.   
"Don't they keep a visit record? The woman from before."

"Alice?"

"I suppose."

"She called in sick today."

"Then I'll wait for her. I do not want to talk to you."

"We need information, sir, so we can help you."

"No." 

"Please, Ben." 

"Fine. Ask your fucking questions." He was feeling much less dulled than before.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. Next."

A pause. "How is your shoulder?"

"Hurts. Next."

"Who hurt you?"

Bentley turned his back to the man. "My brother. My friends. My loves."

"Are you angry?" 

"Why would I kill and stab a person if I wasn't angry? You're asking very stupid questions."

"Not knowing isn't stupidity."

Bentley couldn't argue too much. It wouldn't do any good.

The man wrote on his papers.

"The woman you stabbed and killed. Your friend?"

"No."

"Your love?"

"She used to be."

"She rejected you and you stabbed her dead."

"No! She tried to change me!" Bentley huffed. 

"The other one. The one in the dress. She stabbed you."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I changed."

More scribbling. Great.  
"Did you enjoy killing Miriam Lass?"

They used her name. "I didn't enjoy or not enjoy it. It had to be done. She forced me. I couldn't make her stop trying to change me so I stabbed her."

"And the other?"

"She betrayed me. Didn't take my side. She loves another man.. I did what was right and stopped her from leaving me."

A lot of scribbling.

"Ben, is there a mother and a father in the picture for you?"

"Father, yes. Mother....mother figure."

"Do you like her?"

His tone softened. "Yes, I do. I love her very much."

"Romantically?"

"Shut the fuck up." He spat.

"O-kay..." Scribbling.

"Your father."

"What about him?"

"How do you feel about him?"

He smiled a little.

"He's.. perfect..I wish there were more people like him. We argue sometimes, but he cares..I'm sure. He can be hard to read sometimes. That's part of his charm."

A long silence.

"What are your parents' names?"

He wasn't going to tell.  
"Nicholas and Rose."

Scribbling. Good.

"Rose is the mother figure?"

"Yes, dumbass."

"Do you feel that they love you?"

"Father does. R-....Rose doesn't. She joked about me considering her as a mother figure."

"And that hurts."

"No, it feels like fucking rainbows and sunshine knowing that your mother doesn't consider you her son. Of course it hurts, asshole! Where is Alice? I want someone competent to talk to."  
"Tell me about your brother."

"WHERE IS ALICE!?" He yelled.

"Alright, Ben. I'll see if Alice will come in while /sick/ to see you."

Bentley held his head. It was hurting again.

"No. Just..you don't have to rush the questions. Think a little bit before you ask them, alright? You're really pissing me off."

"Alright."

There was a minute of silence.

"Please tell me about your brother."

"I hate him."

"What else?"

"He thinks he's better than me in every way."

Scribbling.

Bentley covered his head with the small, flat pillow that was given to him. The headache was getting worse. It was Knife's fault.

"I won't answer any more until Alice is back. Healthy. I would rather see her face."

"Alright, Ben. Would you like a pain reliever?"

"N..No..Yes.."

"Yes or no?"

"Yes."

The pill man came back with pain reliever and the other pills.  
"I won't take them."

"Please try."

"NO!" He threw the cup of pills at him. There were two more in it this time.

The pill man called for help. People came and held him down.

"They make me throw up! I don't even know what they're for! You dickheads won't tell me!!"

They pinched his nose and forced his mouth open, using a metal funnel to make him swallow the pills dry. The end in his mouth cut his tongue as they pulled it out but he was too occupied with coughing a bit of blood to tell them. They saw the blood and used a napkin to roughly wipe his mouth.

He thrashed against his captors and they poked his neck with something sharp. His body went limp, then they put him onto the bed, getting away safely.

He laid there and cried in frustration. Tears tickled his nose and cheeks but he was unable to wipe them away.

Some time in the night, or what he assumed was night, he was able to move again. He didn't want to vomit. He didn't want to pace. He just wanted out. 

\--

"Ben?"

Bentley opened his eyes to see Alice. Wearing light blue today.

"Al..ice...?"

"Why are you sleeping on the floor?"

Ben sat up, too quickly? This was a different dizziness. "More comfortable.."

"More than bed?"

"Concrete...is nicer." He answered dully.

"Okay..I was told you didn't want to take your medicine last night."

"No one..told me what they do. I only...take the...painkiller."

Alice sighed. "Ben, you need to take those. They're helping you."

His stomach trembled. He rushed to the toilet and vomited again. It burned his nose. He just rested his arms on the edge of the toilet.

"They aren't helping /shit/!!"

"You need to eat with them, darling, or you'll throw up."

"I refuse to eat what I can't recognize."

Alice rubbed her chin. "How about I tell you what each pill is for when they come back to give them to you? I'll ask them to call me when they do it."

"You can't tell me now?"

"I'm not the one prescribing them..once I see them, I can tell you."

"Alright.." he coughed. "Alice?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Where am I?"

"..You're at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane." 

He looked back to her. "What..? I'm not in prison..?"

"Yes, sir.."

"Why am I /here/!?" He scrambled to the bars. "I want to talk to Chilton! L-Let me talk to Jaguar!"

Alice backed away from the bars. "Ben, I can't do that.."

"Please! If I'm here I won't get out! Chilton doesn't like my father!"

"Ben, calm down, please!"

"I can't calm down!" He sobbed out. There's the pain in his chest again. He slowed his breathing.  
"If I leave, I have no one to go to..if I stay, I'm still alone.." he rested his forehead on the bars.

"I'm all alone, Alice. I hurt people..now I'm alone." He sank to his knees and cried. His throat burned from the bile and his eyes burned from the tears. 

"You have me, Ben..You can trust me."

Bentley just shook his head, denying it.  
Alice's pager beeped.

"I have to go..I'll be back to tell you what the pills are. I promise." She touched his hand and left.

"Alone. Get used to it. Alone forever." He told himself. "You didn't have to hurt anyone."

 

\--

The pill man came back with his friends and the funnel. They assumed he would fight them, and he did.

"Where is Alice!? She's supposed to tell me what these do!!"

"She's gone." The pill man readied the funnel and pills while his nose was pinched again. He kept his mouth shut.

"Open up, Ben! Don't make this any harder." 

He locked his jaw and after a few moments, his body went limp.

\--

Gone? Was she dead? Alice was so nice. Nice like Miriam.

Bentley woke up on his "bed". Restrained.

"Fuck.." he sighed. "FUUUCK!!" He fought against the straps. 

"Alice!! Alice!!" He screamed.

"Shut the fuck up!" Someone down the hall yelled back.

"FUCK YOU! I'll call for who I want!" He responded and the other said nothing.

 

What was he doing?

If he had just listened to people..they wanted him to change. For the better.

Miriam didn't deserve to be killed. What did that do to help anyone? It killed her and it made Ben feel worse about loving her. If he loved her so much, why did he do it? What would have been the harm in just talking to her and taking her advice?

"Miriam..I love you so much..I still think about you." He spoke aloud.   
"You're so beautiful and kind. I feel safe in your arms and in your home..I miss cuddling in bed with you. I miss bringing you flowers and drinking tea with you.. What did I do wrong for you to not love me back?"

He turned his head to one side.  
"Was it because I couldn't protect you from the wendigo?"

He shut his eyes tightly."I'm so stupid..I killed you for my petty jealously...I'm so sorry, Miriam..Don't tell God when you see him."

 

Dodger didn't deserve any of the anguish, the harsh words, the abuse. God, he actually /hit/ Dodger. He put all if his strength into hurting his true love.

"Dodge..don't leave. Don't cry. Don't yell at me..Please!"

Another wave of tears came over him, a deeper heartache.

"Dodger, everything about you is so genuine, so cheerful and caring. How could I think that hitting and hurting you would be alright? How?? Why didn't you kill me then? You should have killed me.."

His chest heaved with sobs.

"I love you, Dodger. I promised you so many things and I broke them all! Damn it..just be with Baby..Everyone I ever love gets taken away by someone else..!"

Bentley cried nonstop for an hour. His neck and cheeks and ears were wet from his tears, and his throat was dry from sharply inhaling while sobbing.

His entire being was racked with guilt. He felt it burn to his bones. The burning worsened and made him cry more.

This wasn't guilt. This was a physical concern.

"Wh-What?? Shit!" He couldn't escape. 

Was he dying? He relaxed his body in hopes that he was. He had a one-way ticket to hell. Maybe the food there would be better.

The pain reached to his skin,burning it to a bright red. He closed his eyes and let the pain overtake him, occasionally letting out a whimper that he couldn't keep back.

The single light of his cell and the light in the hall flickered above him.

All that he felt was his skin stretching until it was numb. He kept still, listening to his body rip apart, tendons, bone, clinking, crushing, a metallic smell.. He opened an eye and half of his body had become leather..stitched leather and a frame.

Oh, God.

He shut his eyes again. More metal sounds. He was turning back.

The bed broke under his growing weight. He waited until the noises stopped to open his eyes.

So close to the floor, again.

His engine revved loudly as he tried to speak. The other prisoners were panicking.

"This is it!" He thought and sped towards the brick wall opposite of him, breaking a huge hole into it. It hurt his bumper, but it was worth it!

He drove out of the hole in the wall went as fast as he could. To home. To Hannibal. Nowhere else was safe until he made it up to the ones he hurt.

He drove, speeding, all the way home. One of his switches activated the garage door and he was able to get in and close it without trouble.

"..I'm..My hands and feet.."

Now he couldn't hurt anyone until he was driven to.


End file.
